Play With Fire and Get Burned
by Queen Piper
Summary: Written for College Composition class, a story of what happens AFTER Sara asks Grissom out and gets burned.


Author's Note: First of all, to all those who read my story prior to this edit, the heading at the top of this story was my name, my English class, my teacher and the date it was due. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I was assigned to write a story for my College Composition class to show I know how to use descriptive narrative. I could write about anything I chose, and this is what I chose. It hurts me to know that someone would accuse me plagerizing my own story because my name was at the top of it. And for the record; I AM CARRIE SMITH!  
  
"Play With Fire" and Get Burned.  
  
Disclaimer: Characters owned by that of Mr. Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS Network. First part of story taken from the end of episode "Play With Fire," rest of story my own.  
  
Irony. This is the word that came to Sara Sidle's mind as she walked towards her supervisor, Gil Grissom's office. Wasn't she coming this way just the other day to do the exact same thing? She looked at the plastic tarped-off DNA lab and remembered the feel of the explosion, the feel of slamming into the wall from the force, the glass raining down on her and feeling like hot needles all over her body. Sara remembers all this, and then looking over to find Greg Sanders, the spikey haired lab rat going unconscious a mere 5 feet away.  
Sara arrived at Gil's office just in time to see him pull a tab from his Rolodex, unbeknowst to her it is a female's name, one that Gil may just have plans with that evening. Taking a breath she prepares herself.  
"You... got a minute?" she asks him.  
"I was just leaving," Gil responds, looking up from the Rolodex.  
"Yeah, the, uh, schedule says you're off," Sara replies, delaying the inevitable.  
"I am," Grissom responds, somewhat cooly.  
"Me too," Sara replies, her throat getting a bit dry from nerves.  
"You should be on paid leave," Grissom tells her, artfully changing the subject.  
"I'm fine," Sara responds, defesively.  
"You were fortunate. And I'm not talking about the explosion," Grissom retaliates, concern and chastising in his voice.  
"We got the guy," Sara says defensively, if there's one this she doesn't like, it's being wrong.  
"Is that all you have to say?" Grissom responds.  
Taking a deep breath, Sara prepares herself.  
"Would you like to have dinner with me?"  
Grissom halts in his steps, looking into her brown eyes, he gives her his answer.  
"No."  
"Why not? Let's have dinner... let's see what happens."  
"Sara..." Grissom trails off, somewhat frustrated. After a pause, "I don't know what to do about this."  
Nodding, Sara says, "I do." After a beat she adds, "You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late." And with that, Sara walks away briskly so that Grissom will not see the weakness in her eyes. --  
Sara walked into her empty apartment and looked around. The place is exactly as she remembered it, not that she was expecting it to look any different. Dropping her keys onto the table she realizes just how lonely this place is, and fleetingly thinks of buying an animal. Her thoughts than drift to her goldfish. Goldie, she thinks dismally.  
Walking into her bedroom she changes out of her clothes into a t- shirt and sweatpants. A nice pizza and sob-fest movie will cheer me up, she thinks to herself before heading over to the phone and dialing in the pizza number. Fortunately for her, pizza places are open all night long in Vegas, which helps when you work a graveyard shift.  
After ordering her vegitarian pizza, Sara hangs up the phone and sets it back down on the cradle, her thoughts once again drift back to when she decided to become a vegitarian. Grissom wanted to help her get rid of Kaye's anguished cries so he set up an experiment to see how long it would take bugs to infest themselves in a tightly wrapped pig. He did that for her, more than anyone.  
Hearing a knock at the door, Sara grabbed the $20 from her wallet and headed for the apartment front door, she opened it to find not a pimple- faced delivery boy but Gil Grissom, holding the pizza on one hand.  
"Am I too late?" He asked her with a boyish grin on his face.  
Checking her watch playfully, Sara told him, "5 more minutes and that pizza would've been free."  
Walking in, Grissom set down the pie and plucked the 20 out of her hands, setting it down on top of the box. He then looked into her brown eyes and thought back to the time when they first met, when she was just a student, now she was a grown CSI Level 3, and while he may have known her for years this feeling only came up when she came to Las Vegas from San Francisco to help him investigate the murder of Holly Gribbs. Running his fingers through her straight brown hair he recalled all the feelings he's ever felt for her and let the flood of emotion overtake his normally controlled persona.  
For the first time in Gil Grissom's life he was taking a chance. He felt scared, but at the same time a state of euphoria like nothing he'd felt before. With nothing to lose he pulled Sara closer and did what he wanted to for almost 4 years... he kissed her.  
  
Sara awoke with a start and looked around her bedroom. No pizza. No Grissom. All alone. The cold sweat from the intense dream trickled down her face and stung as the salt entered the still sensitive wounds she obtained from the DNA lab explosion.  
A knock sounded at the door that knocked Sara out of reprieve, and for a moment Sara thought for sure it was going to be Grissom. Perhaps mysticism has some logic to it, perhaps the world isn't all science. Sara ran for the door and threw it open to find a pimple-faced pizza delivery boy.  
"Pizza," he told her as she dejectedly retrieved the money and paid for the pie.  
After closing the door, Sara leaned against it and felt a lonesome tear roll down her face. 


End file.
